A Demon And Her Scot (Welcome To Hell) (11 page)

Aella slammed into Sasha’s shop practically hyperventilating. She’d run from the golf course to her friend’s place, her talk with Niall sending her into a panic. Unable to deal with it and needing some advice without him distracting her, she’d gone to the one person she trusted.

Sporting large hoop earrings and enough chains to sink a ship, Sasha barely glanced up from behind the counter. She did however say, “Yes, you are being a big fucking chicken.”

As usual, Sasha already knew the cause of her angst. Having a psychic as a BFF really helped cut a lot of the bullshit. “I can’t help it. He wants us to have a relationship. I think he might even be—” She dropped her voice to a low whisper. “In love with me.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? What am I supposed to do?” Cut off his head? Stake him? Run for the hills?

“Um, why not love him back?”

“But he’s—he’s—”

“Hot.”

How dare her friend notice! “Yes, but—”

“Violent.”

Which she liked. “Yes, but —”

“Willing to put up with your shit.”

“Again, yes, but —”

“Would you stop with the fucking buts
? You love him. Stop finding stupid excuses and admit it.”

Her first instinct was deny, deny, deny. But lying to her BFF was wrong. “Fine. I do love him. I don’t understand why, but I do. However, we can’t be together.” The
exact reason why wasn’t entirely clear to her, but centuries of shunning relationships held sway.

“Why the heck not?”

Well, she could think of at least one valid point. “He thinks women should be meek little creatures who look pretty and don’t have an opinion.”

“Does he? And yet he’s fallen for the most loud-mouthed bitch I know.”

“I am not a bitch.”

“Okay Ms. Has-To-Have-The-Last-Word.”

“It’s called confidence.”

“If you say so. And look at that, despite the fact you have an abundance of
confidence,
he still wants you for more than just a hole to screw. He also talks to you. Listens to you. Thinks you’re cute when you’re chopping the heads off demons. Wants to kill anything that covets you.”

Oh, how adorable. She wanted to kill those coveting him too. “He loves me.” It finally hit her. Truly sank in, along with wonderment and a warmth not related to Hell’s infernal heat.

“Give the snake a mouse. Yes, he loves you. As you are, and despite his old-fashioned views. Just like you love him. So would you stop being scared?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then you’ll survive. But that won’t be a problem. Don’t forget, I see the future.”

“And?”

“Trust me when I say if you make the right choice now, you have centuries of disgusting happiness ahead of you.”

She did? Then what was she waiting for? “I should go back to him.”

“You should. But not until morning.”

Mind made up, Aella’s impatience struck. “Why not?”

“Lucifer has him under lock and key with strict orders not to let anyone in. He’s not taking any chances with his caddy with the match happening tomorrow. You’ll have to wait.”

Wait. But she wanted to see him now. Thankfully, Sasha, having foreseen her disappointment, had stocked up on ice cream and girly flicks. It wasn’t a night spent in her Scot’s arms, but at least she didn’t mope alone.

The day of the tournament dawned grey and ashy, in Hell at least. Out upon the mortal plane, in the wilds of the Australian outback where the tourney was being held, the sun blazed as it rose over the horizon, promising heat and cloudless conditions, or so Mother Earth claimed.

At the first hole, the participants and their caddies lined up. God, with his archangel Raphael as his caddy, dressed all in whites from their collared shirts to their Bermuda shorts and cleated shoes. Even the golf bag, made of synthetic white fibers, shone in the dawning glare. Zeus, wearing his customary toga, a light blue with a golden sash that matched his gold-trimmed bag, stood stroking his beard while his caddy, Hermes, struggled under his load, muttering about the indignity of being a ball carrier. The Lord of Limbo, featureless and dressed in a cowled
gray robe, stood still as a statue, the fabric of his clothing fluttering in a wind that only seemed to affect him while his bag hovered by his side. His caddy, a sexless, wraithlike being, while humanoid in shape, was alien at the same time, with pupil-less eyes and only a seamless expanse where his mouth should have been. The fourth in the group was none other than the Lord of the Pit himself—or as HBC stated in their live report, “
Rounding out the quartet is our very own lord of despair, the king of all sin, the ultimate fornicator, the biggest, baddest devil ever to play…”.
Resplendent in another eye-popping outfit, Lucifer wore flame-patterned shorts, a vivid red shirt, black shoes, and a smirk. Niall, the bag slung over his shoulder and wearing his usual plaid and linen shirt—as well as sunblock specially made for vampires, SPF 666—wanted to roll his eyes as Lucifer waved and played to the thick crowd of spectators. He had to hand it to the powerful demon. He knew how to work people into an excited frenzy.

Their foursome wasn’t the only one to compete. A few other deities rounded out the two other groups, but none really worth noting, not with Satan stealing the show.

When Gaia stepped daintily from the crowd, a vision of springtime loveliness in her gauzy green gown and hair crowned in a wreath of flowers, the crowd stamped and whistled, especially when Lucifer spun her and dipped her for a long kiss.

Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and giggling, she waved to her lover before skipping back while Lucifer leered at her and commented on those within hearing—“Damned fine woman. I can’t wait to claim my victory BJ when this is over.” It didn’t even faze him when the bolt of lightning struck out of nowhere and left his hair standing on end. Zeus peered at his hand then the sky, brow beetling, while Gaia glared.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who’d taken offense at his words.

But who cared when a blow of trumpets, a whole angelic choir of them, sounded
? The tournament—and torture—began.

B
alls went flying, not always in the right direction. It was painful to watch, and yet watch everyone did, not for the sport itself, but for the underlying politics as deities were forced to spend time in each other’s company.

Lucifer especially enjoyed himself.

“Zeus, old man, I see you got the beard untangled from your latest lover’s snatch. You should ask your barber next time you see him to give you a Brazilian.” The crowed tittered, especially since the Greek god clearly didn’t understand the reference.

“Limbo, or may I call you Limbless? How on earth do you get oral if your minions don’t have mouths?” That question went viral on
Twitpit as everyone speculated on if the sealed upper lips also meant sealed lower ones.

“Hey, big brother, nice parasol. Did you steal it from my girlfriend?” A frothy white concoction, it shaded God from the burning sun. He didn’t do well in the heat, a fact Lucifer mocked him for loudly and often, comparing his reddening skin to that of a lobster. The religious in the crowd began muttering, and Niall could already predict Hell would acquire some new souls as previously pristine Heavenly inhabitants accidentally sinned in their outrage.

On and on, the taunting went, throwing the players off their game, which in turn helped Lucifer, who sucked as usual. It was a long fucking morning, made longer by the fact Niall could see Aella in the crowd; he just couldn’t touch or talk to her.

Despite how she’d run off the day before, she seemed happy to see him today, or at least so he assumed by her wave and smile when their eyes first met. He did wonder, though, why she kept biting her lower lip, looking worried. He intended to find out as soon as this match from Hell ended. Which, at the rate things were going, would take all bloody day.

As the sun blazed down, hotter and hotter, sweat trickled down the crease of his spine. It was about as attractive as it sounded, so when Lucifer hit a ball in the woods, Niall almost cheered because the shade of the boughs was a welcome relief.

“How am I doing?” the devil asked as they trudged across the sandy fairway to the shadowy copse.

“Pretty good considering.” And he was. Whether it was dumb luck or just the other players having a shitty day, they were all within a few strokes of each other, nobody really leading the pack in any way, and getting close to the end with only a half dozen more holes to go.

“Yeah, what a stroke of luck when that vulture scooped that Limbo dude’s ball as it flew by
,” Lucifer remarked with a smug smile.

“Is that what they call it nowadays?”

“Why, Niall, are you accusing me of cheating?” Affront on Satan’s face proved a comical thing to see.

“As if.” Niall snorted. “Just saying it was mighty convenient considering it would have put him ahead three strokes on that hole.”

“One can’t control the forces of nature,” Lucifer replied gravely.

“But one can fuck it until she screams with pleasure,” he muttered back.

“Yes. Yes, one can. What can I say? When I do that trick where I swirl my hips…” Lucifer demonstrated, and Niall nearly walked into a tree, his temporary blindness to blame.

Under the relative coolness of spindly branches, they stopped speaking as they hunted for the elusive white ball. They’d left the cheering and jeering of the crowd behind, the only noise that of their feet crunching the fallen branches and detritus of a forest left to its own natural devices.

The attack took them both by surprise, especially since it came from above and without warning. From the trees dropped dozens of giant spiderlike bodies, the multi-jointed legs and huge segmented bodies reminiscent of the earth variety, if they came in nuclear-induced sizes bigger than his fist and a vivid neon pink. How they’d managed to camouflage themselves Niall didn’t have time to ponder, not when they seemed intent on swarming him to sink their dripping, probably venomous, quad of fangs into him.

“What in hell are these?” he yelled.

“Not from Hell, that’s for sure,” Lucifer stated. “These suckers aren’t from any of the planes I’ve visited.”

“What do we do?” Niall asked, shaking a few critters free and booting them.

“Kill them, of course.”

Not having brought his sword—the tourney supposed to be weapons-free and neutral of conflict—Niall did the next best thing. He pulled out a number seven iron and began to whack at them.

“Take that, you bloody bastard,” he cursed as a hairy pink body went flying to splat against a gnarly tree bole. “And that. And that.” Again and again, he swung, each swing of the club sending a nasty critter flying, his aim unerring.

As for Lucifer, he crowed as he swirled, aiming his finger in a gunlike motion and shouting, “Bang, you’re dead.” Of course, instead of bullets, he shot out balls of flame, but they still did the trick, igniting the alien invaders and burning them to a crisp, the acrid stench not entirely unpleasant and reminding him he’d yet to have lunch.

In the midst of their arachnid battle, Aella appeared, a grimace on her face. “Eew. Figures. I hate spiders.”

“How did you know to come find us?” Niall asked in between swings.

“Call it instinct. That and the rather obvious distraction on the golf course. It’s raining purple daisies, so Zeus is calling foul on Mother Nature, who, in turn, is claiming a frame job. Meanwhile, no one seems to have noticed you both disappeared and haven’t returned. I got suspicious so I thought I’d wander away while no one was watching and check in on you.”

“Ye shouldn’t have. Ye’ll get dirty,” Niall replied in an attempt at chivalry.

Dressed as the girlfriend of a participant, which meant short skirt, tight blouse, and impractical shoes, she didn’t have much to offer as a shield or weapon. Niall moved to place himself in front of her as a line of defense.

As if she’d allow that. She sidestepped him and peered down at the skittering critters with a moue of distaste. “Damn it all. Security took my sword and my gun,” she grumbled as she stomped on one with her shoe, the squishing sound not as gross as the squelched guts between her sandaled toes.

Lucifer paused his fireball flinging to give her hell. “You’re not supposed to be here. Rules state only the players, caddy, or game officials can be present on the course.”

“Since when do you follow rules?”

Satan shrugged. “Just making sure you’re breaking the rules on purpose so I can add a bonus to your paycheck later. Now do you mind earning that paycheck? We could use a little help.”

A little indeed. But, just as Niall meant to ask how Lucifer thought she could help without any weapons, a forked tongue came flicking out of nowhere. Whirling, Niall beheld a disturbing sight. Aella had finally shifted over to her lamia shape, which meant her top half, still wearing the black blouse and white pearls
, was human, while her bottom half sat in a coiled, sinuous heap, the tip of her tail rattling ominously. Out came her tongue, intriguingly long, split, and agile enough to snag another alien spider. For a moment, he feared she’d eat it, but no, she tossed it behind her where her tail, sporting some wicked barbs, lashed the spinning arachnid, skewering it into pieces.

“Lass, that is oddly hot,” he told her as he sent a few more flying to meet their maker.

“You’re sick, Scot.”

“I must be because, no matter how ye treat me and ignore me and surprise me, I can’t help but want and like ye.”

“You do?” She paused in her spider killing to regard him.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, you never actually said so.”

“Did I not come with ye to see the idiot in the pompom over there?”

“Hey,” Lucifer shouted. “I resent that. It’s not a pompom but a tam.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

He snorted. “Love, if I’d not wanted to spend more time with ye, I could have disappeared in the wilds, and not ye or any other tracker would have found me.”

“Which is why you went running to a whorehouse the first chance you got.”

“And ended up proving to myself that ye were more than just a hot pussy. Ye mean something to me, lass.” But apparently, he’d have to prove it.

“You dumped me on my ass after sex.”

“Because caring for ye scared me.”

“You said we were just pretending to be dating so I could protect you.”

“So I could keep ye close to me.”

“You sold your soul to win that Scottish bitch.”

“I also killed her, her family, and laid waste to a decent portion of Scotland when she betrayed me.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so much better.”

“Ask me what I’d do if ye ever broke my trust or didn’t want me back.”

“What would you do?”

“Jump in the abyss and hope to never be reborn again. I don’t want to keep living, or not living I should say, without ye. Before I met ye, I was waiting for the courage to die. Now I want to live, but only if ye are at my side. The question is, will ye?”

“Will I what?”

“Marry me, of course. Be the queen of my castle. The proud wearer of my plaid. The one to feed me when I hunger, and not just for blood. For everything. Love, sex, companionship. I want ye to be the one. My one.”

“You’re asking an awful lot. What do I get out of this?”

“Ye want more? I’m giving you my heart. My love. My loyalty and my life. What more do you want?”

She knew the answer to that one thanks to Sasha. “I want forever.”

“Done.”

“Oh no we’re not,” Lucifer snapped as he fried a final pink monstrosity. “Thanks for nothing. While you’ve been spewing lovey-dovey garbage, I had to protect myself.”

“From teeny tiny bugs,” Gaia mocked as she appeared out of nowhere. “Really, Lucifer. Did you have to make such a mess of my forest?”

“Well excuse me for trying to save my own skin.”

“I guess I can forgive you this one time. But now would you stop dilly-dallying and get that ball moving? The game officials have noticed your absence and are heading this way, which means Aella and I need to scatter. Come along, dear. Oh, and don’t forget to put back on your bottom half. We wouldn’t want any snake hunters to get any ideas. Your reptile coloring is quite striking and would make a beautiful purse and shoes. Ever think of selling your skin when you shed it?”

As the ladies winked out discussing the possibilities of starting a lamia line of leather products, Niall blinked. “Did I just imagine that conversation, or did she just say she’d be mine forever?”